Secrets of the Lighthouse by Santa Montefiore Read Free Book Online Page A

classics,’ interjected Oswald; then he added wisely: ‘
In the long run, men hit only what they aim at. Therefore, they had better aim at something
high
. There, that’s a quote for you. Read Oscar Wilde, Dumas, Maupassant, Austen, Dickens. Read the Greats, Ellen, and you might end up writing like them.’
    ‘Is that what you do with your paintings?’ she asked with a grin.
    ‘No, because I am old and I have reached my ceiling in terms of ability. You are young and have a long way to go.’
    ‘I’m not sure I believe that, Oswald. I don’t think one is ever too old to strive for greatness.’
    ‘Now you’re teasing
me
,’ he chuckled.
    ‘Don’t you think you deserve a little of your own medicine?’ said Peg, clicking her tongue and gazing at him lovingly.
    ‘Deal the cards, Peg, old girl, and let’s begin.’
    Ellen realized that she would inevitably have to find a book to read, if they were going to play cards every evening and there was no television to entertain her. She wondered
what Emily would think of that and smiled. She didn’t think Emily would last five minutes in a house without a television. She wasn’t sure
she
was going to last that long,
either. But a house with two eccentric old people and no telly was certainly more desirable than home in London with a fiancé she didn’t love and a pushy mother urging her up the aisle
for all the wrong reasons.
    She sank into the sofa and stared at the fire thoughtfully. She knew she owed William more than a text – and she should really have been clearer. ‘I need to get away and have some
time to think’ was not synonymous with: ‘I don’t love you so I don’t want to marry you.’ The date of the wedding was set for June, almost five months away. The Church
of the Immaculate Conception at Farm Street was booked for Saturday 22nd and the reception at Claridges afterwards gave her mother an excuse to lunch there weekly with Mr Smeaman, the oleaginous
events manager. She had already made an appointment with Sarah Burton, who had designed the Duchess of Cambridge’s wedding dress, because Madeline Trawton insisted she wanted a creation no
less beautiful for her eldest daughter, although Ellen was quick to recognize that it had more to do with impressing her friends than pleasing her child. Leonora and Lavinia had both enjoyed lavish
weddings, but when all was said and done, the brides had taken second place to their mother who had shone more radiantly than the two of them put together.
    While Ellen ruminated on her predicament and Peg and Oswald played cards in the bay window, Jack began to squawk from the tallboy. ‘Kak-Kak,’ he went, frantically pacing the ledge
where he perched. Then Mr Badger lifted his head and pricked his ears. He stiffened as if every one of his senses was alert to something only a dog can perceive. Ellen watched him absent-mindedly
at first and then with growing interest. He began to wag his tail and follow some unseen thing with his eyes, as if it wandered about the room. Then he whined excitedly, his tail thumping on the
cushions. It was all most curious, but neither Oswald nor Peg seemed to notice. Ellen pushed herself up from her seat and knelt on the carpet to stroke him. He glanced at her a moment,
acknowledging her presence, but was immediately distracted again by the unseen entity.
    ‘Aunt Peg, have a look at Jack and Mr Badger,’ she said. ‘They’re behaving very strangely.’
    Aunt Peg glanced over and grinned. ‘They’re a little eccentric, I’m afraid.’
    ‘It’s the fairies,’ said Oswald, without taking his eyes off his hand of cards.
    Peg shook her head. ‘Don’t you go scaring my niece, she’s only just arrived. I won’t have her fleeing back to London from the spooks.’
    ‘If it’s a spook, it’s a friendly one,’ said Ellen. Then, as Jack flew out of the room, she added, ‘I can’t vouch for your bird, but Mr Badger likes it. Look
how he follows it with his